Talion
Talion 'was a soldier of a faction called the Rangers of Gondor, whose main objective was to protect the Black Gate, the gateway to Mordor. He originally lived with his family in an outpost near there. During an attack to the Black Gate, his outpost was attacked by Sauron's servants. His wife and son were murdered, and Talion was killed alongside all of the Rangers. He expected to meet his wife and son in the afterlife, but he was brought back to life by the powerful Black Hand of Sauron, who, by enacting a ritual to bring forth the wraith of Celebrimbor, inadvertently allowed the elf and Talion to both inhabit his body. Celebrimbor (who was an immensely powerful wraith), now shared his body with Talion, and the two joined forces to get revenge for Talion's fallen family, hacking and slashing through the Uruk Armies, and stealthily picking off commander after commander. And after that, they aimed to take down Sauron himself, once and for all. Battle vs. Batman (Arkham) (by Weew1213) ''Talion opens his eyes to see the dusty and foggy area known as the Wraith Realm… He looks around to see that he is in an Elven Forge Tower. Every time he dies, he seems to wake up in one of these towers. He walks forward and sees those blue outlines of Uruks he is recognizes so easily. He walks over to the edge and blinks to see the world in a normal light. He looks down at the grassy plain below and takes deep breath. He jumps off and lands on one knee. He looks up and starts to sprint towards one group of Uruks. As he gets closer, he notices that one of them has information he needs to take down any captain or chief he wants; a Worm. He slows himself down and crouches down. He then moves towards some bushes nearby. He looks around to see that most of the Uruks have positioned themselves near a campfire. Two sitting, both on the opposite sides of the fire, and the others, standing. Two are patrolling the area. The area being part of a destroyed three-story building, where it seems as most of it is gone and only enough of the top floor is there for something to stand on and easily keep their balance. Sure enough, there is a small Uruk archer keeping his eyes open for any hostiles. The middle floor is completely gone and only a large wall is holding the floors together. On the bottom floor is that group of Uruks. He sees that there is also one large Uruk holding a large shield and spear. He then turns his attention towards one of the patrolling Uruks and uses an ability called ‘Attract’ which brings an Uruk’s attention to the spot Talion was or is currently at. The Uruk’s ugly head turns and it start to creep toward Talion. Once the Uruk gets close enough, it sees him in the bushes and a shocked look shoots across his face. He raises his sword to strike but quickly, Talion moves out of the bushes and covers of the mouth of the Uruk. As he covers the mouth, Talion sweeps the leg, forcing him to fall on his back. He draws his dagger, Acharn, stabs it right in the Uruk’s neck and pulls it over to the left, completely slicing the neck open, killing him. He looks up and continues to sneak around. He moves forward on crouched knees and up to apart of the wall that seems to cover the front of where the Uruks are. He blinks and looks an over to his right to see the group of Uruks all by the fire still there. He then turns his attention to the other patrolling Uruk. He moves out of the bushes and onto the wall; the same wall that keeps him between the group of Uruks. He keeps himself crouched as a he moves along the wall. He keeps close to that wall, making sure that no Uruk sees him. He blinks to see where the other patrolling Uruk is and he’s about to come around the corner that lays in front of him. He moves as quickly as he could to kill the Uruk before he gets seen. He reaches the corner but, still no Uruk. He pulls out his dagger and holds it. He takes a deep breath and slowly looks over to see the Uruk just standing there. But as soon as he sticks his head out, the Uruk starts sniffing the air. Talion snaps his head forward and scoots a bit to the left to stay unseen. The sniffing keeps getting louder and longer as the Uruk gets closer. “Man-filth….” The Uruk quietly growls and moves closer to Talion. He continues to sniff and move closer. Talion grabs ahold of his dagger tightly and holds his breath as the Uruk gets closer. He moves the dagger from his chest and holds it out and below his waist. He keeps his eyes focused on that corner. Then slowly, a clawed hand appears and grabs ahold of that edge. That same Uruk then slowly pokes his head and as he does, he makes a snarling sound that sounds a bit more like growling. He pokes his head out enough to see his neck and is about to turn his head. “Hey! What’re ya’ doin’?” An Uruk demands from a distance behind. The Uruk immediately turns his attention to the Uruk. “Nothing, I thought I ‘eard sometin’.” He responds with a hostile tone. He then turns around and starts to walk away. He stops after a little bit to look back but, he shakes his head. He continues to walk. Talion sees this as his chance and he moves off the wall. He crouches down and makes his way behind the Uruk. Once he gets close enough, he stands up and puts his hand over the Uruk’s mouth. He then kicks the back of the right knee, forcing the Uruk to kneel and as soon as that happens, he slits his throat. He then kicks the body down and looks up. He blinks and sees that the archer is still there. He turns and looks at the wall next to him. He scans the wall to see a good place to grab onto. He finds a brick sticking out out at the bottom and another one sticking out as well, a bit above it; high enough to get a good grip of. He puts his foot on the bottom brick and grabs the other. Slowly, he finds a way to climb up the building. His hands grip the edge, the same edge that the Uruk archer was standing on, and he puts his feet on parts of the wall so he can stay in that one spot. He looks up at the archer and pushes himself enough to grab ahold of the Uruk’s ankle. He then forces the archer off his feet and he quickly stabs him in the neck before he can even make a sound. He pushes himself up to his feet and stands up on the platform. He walks over to the opposite side and looks down. He sees that one of the Uruks is right below him. He brings his head back up and looks in front of him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He walks off the edge and begins to fall. His keeps his eyes closed for a second or two to just feel the air and he opens them back up and looks at the Uruk below him. He quickly grabs the dagger from his back and with his momentum, he forces the Uruk off his feet and onto his back. Talion raises the dagger and slams it down on the Uruk’s face. He looks up to see multiple shocked Uruk faces. An Uruk on the left changes the look on his face from shocked to anger. “Ranger?! Get ‘im!” The Uruk’s scratchy voice commands as he points his scimitar at the kneeling Talion. The Uruk then, charges forward with his blade raised above his head. Talion, on the other hand, waits until he feels the Uruk is close enough and he spins around. He spins around enough to use the momentum to stab the Uruk in the neck. Another Uruk charges at Talion but Talion, he slides the dagger out of the Uruk’s neck and moves his body out of the way from the blade coming down on his head. He raises the dagger and brings it down on the side of the knee, forcing it to buckle and keep the Uruk on one knee. Talion lets go of the dagger and unsheathes his sword. Using the same momentum, he brings the blade down onto the Uruk’s shoulder; it cuts deep enough that it cuts through the heart and down all the way to the stomach. He slides the blade right out and kicks the now-dead Uruk down. He sees another Uruk charging at him and in response, he begins to charge towards him with his blade angled in front of him. He charges forward and plunges the blade in the Uruk. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees an Uruk coming from behind him. Just like the others, the blade is raised above his head and charges unwittingly into battle. Nothing else was written at that point. The winner is Talion. Expert's Opinion None written. To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here. Battle vs. Geralt of Rivia (by Dargoo Faust) '''Geralt It was always those damn portals. Geralt stood amongst a vast, desolate wasteland alien to any landscape he chanced upon in his decades as a witcher. Unpredictable. Dangerous. Every time he slipped through a doorway some enchantress or wizard swore up and down was perfectly safe he managed to land in some ice giant’s lair, or in his current case: another dimension. Avallac’h at least had the courtesy to tell him he’d probably be devoured by some monster or trapped underwater, and, even better, that there’d be a way out. Apparently they’d meet up at the base of a Wild Hunt insider after enough dimension hopping, but Geralt trusted that less than he trusted Yennifer’s promise not to throw his bed out of the windows of Kaer Morhen again. All of that didn’t matter, though. If there was a chance to survive the Wild Hunt’s next attack, to keep Ciri breathing… he’d take it. He stepped forward, greeted with an aroma every witcher had grown accustomed to after enough contracts: the bitter, metallic scent of blood, and the pungent aura of death that every wraith and its home carried. Talion I always wondered if Urǔks could feel. Burning the weak, wispy wills of them over and over again, infiltrating higher and higher ranks of The Black Hand's mindless armies always made me feel ''like I was making progress towards closure, yet all I ever felt was an echo of the cold, heartless bloodlust they all shared. And having you as my only company, Celebrimbor, does not ease the case. ''We share an interest tied in blood, in fate. Little advances, if repeated constantly, can reap great rewards, Talion. Tell that to the last dozen commanders that only managed to get their ears sliced off by some larger mass of muscle. Think what you will. Our actions have not gone unnoticed, and our progress has already shown itself to greater eyes. We advance to the final gauntlet. Your vendetta against Sauron will not stand above my revenge. Again, we’ve made progress, and have come to closer encounters with the necromancer who left you in this state. In dealing with Sauron, we deal with your vendettas as well. Fine. Something in the corner of my eye. A portal? Did you catch that as well? It appears we’re not alone. What the hell is another human doing wandering in the middle of Mordor, let alone practicing magic so openly? It could hardly be with benevolent intentions. Approach with caution, half-wraith. Geralt In the corner of his eye, Geralt spotted his goal: a spark of that sunset glimmer he used to travel to this place. It rested atop some crumbled ruins that looked more ancient than Vesemir, standing alone among the burnt and scarred landscape. Maybe he could avoid this wraith all together, an idea that, with how troublesome noonwraiths could normally be, was much more appealing than the alternative. It hardly made the scent better for him, though. Rustling of grass. Footprints. Clues of past and present company made their way through Geralt’s witcher senses, signs that contradicted the presence of a ghastly noonwraith. Although, considering his current situation, Geralt hardly knew what to expect from the worlds he traveled though. Shink. The spectral dagger hardly missed his ear, a mistake Geralt could already sense was executed on purpose. “Nice shot.” Geralt could almost feel the stench. His senses alternated between undead monster and blood-covered human. Both spelled bad news. A voice called out, piercing the silence. “The next one hits the back of your head, stranger,” the voice barked, “I rarely see wizards in Mordor, and all of the ones I do serve the Black Hand.” “And you want to know why I’m here?” Geralt had been through this type of encounter too many times already. Questions turn into demands turn into bloodshed. His hand steadily moved towards his blade. “I could care less. What I do want to know,” More footsteps. Coming closer. Metal sliding against leather as a dagger unsheathes. Geralt, feigning struggle, is grasped and restrained in a lock; a dagger slides its way towards his jugular. “Is the location of the Black Hand.” Confidence was a weapon Geralt knew how to abuse. The lock came apart like a poorly tied knot, and with a few shifts in balance Geralt swung his assailant thrashing into the dust. Talion Damn it! I told you. This isn’t your average wizard. Even exceptional wizards can’t react that fast! Your left. Ach! So, we’re dealing with fire magic, then. And explosives, apparently. Enter the wraith world. It is far too dangerous to take him on up close. Got it. Celebrimbor, you take him at a range. He’s still keeping close. Must be able to hear us. Still have the higher ground. Got him. Geralt The arrow sticking out of Geralt’s chest struck something other than his armor. Something… deeper. He couldn’t even pull it out. Regardless, the smell was above him now, breathing sounded tight, as if aiming down for another shot. Parrying didn’t work the first time, and as Geralt ran up the ruins all he could do was doge the barrage of spectral arrows. At the top, the flurry of projectiles Geralt had to avoid became larger and larger. Even behind cover the arrows still managed to skim his skin. Swiftly, Geralt ran aside, then pulled out and drank a bottle of Swallow. The wounds vanished like frost in the autumn morning, yet Geralt could feel its poisons work their way into his system. With seconds on hand, Geralt formulated a plan. Talion He’s hiding. Shouldn’t be long before he has to show himself. I believe he’s more resourceful than that. Watch your back. I saw at least two of our shots strike him, one in the leg. He’s hardly in a contditi- Behind you! Geralt Throwing the Samum where the stench was the worst did its work. The bomb exploded in a blinding flash as Geralt ran towards it to place Yrden runes. Almost immediately, the wraith’s invisibility and intangibility faded, and his movements became even more sluggish. Brandishing his steel sword, Geralt approached for head to head combat. He wasn’t expecting an easy fight. As soon as his opponent collected himself, he dashed with speeds Geralt had only seen in his sparring with Ciri, and would have killed Geralt before that thought formulated had Yrden not slowed the strike. Parrying the swing, Geralt cast the rune of Aard, knocking the wraith into a nearby pillar. Several moments later, a steel bolt flew towards the wraith-man, digging deep inside his thigh. Talion Pain. I haven’t felt it in millennia. Something’s forcing us to stay solid. Shoot it. Something’s forcing 'me' to stay solid. This is magic that hasn’t ever touched Middle Earth until now. If you can’t shoot it, I’ll make it burn. Geralt One of the most important aspects of staying alive as a monster hunter wasn’t a steady blade or wisdom. It was never getting too confident with the kill. Geralt knew the wraith, while incapacitated, was still capable of damage. Coating himself in Quen, Geralt prepared for the worst. A blaze of dark, otherworldly flames burst from the man, engulfing the runes Geralt had placed and shattering the layer of Quen he had applied to himself. It was now, or never. He pulled out a swig of Thunderbolt, chugged it, and ran faster than its poison could take him over. Geralt’s senses and reflexes were stretched to their limit. Even with the bolt lodged into his leg, the wraith still outsped the witcher. The metal of their swords clashed and grinded on each other; each fighter looked for openings that didn’t exist. Parries turned to slashes, and slashes turned into fully blown strikes. It soon became a battle of durability. Geralt’s armor easily blocked the occasional slashes and stabs, yet each swing of steel and meteor that hit the wraith’s skin ruptured it as fresh blood coated the dried blood Geralt had smelled earlier. Bleeding, crippled, the wraith-man could only tense and untense in immense pain. As the symbols of Yrden surrounded the wraith once more, the witcher prepared for another important aspect of his job: the killing blow. The head of a man cursed by the Black Hand rolled off the steep ledge of the ruins, its soul finally free. Without an inch of remorse, the legs of a man cursed by the Wild Hunt pulled themselves into the next portal. WINNER - GERALT OF RIVIA Expert's Opinion It was commonly agreed that while Talion outclassed Geralt physically with his advanced speed and ranged capabilities, Geralt's wide variety of counters to Talion's wraith form and shadow strike alongside his alchemical and magical enhancements of his own abilities put him above Talion. 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